


1am Guns

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Vince's Princess ♥ [24]
Category: Pulp Fiction (1994)
Genre: Babysitting, Couch Sex, Daddy Kink, Doggy Style, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Sneaking Around, Vince Is A Dumbass Fuckhead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 04:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: you're babysitting for your Uncle Jules' daughter Jada while he's out for the night on a job. after dozing off, you hear somebody sneaking in-- it's the idiot that Jules works with and always goes on about.





	1am Guns

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve done this as kind of a father’s ((daddy’s)) day special! but i just wanna note that:
> 
> >if your dad has left/abandoned you etc  
> >if your dad has passed on  
> >if you have an unstable/difficult relationship with your dad  
> >if your dad doesn’t treat you fairly  
> >or anything like this that might make you feel down on this day  
> just know ur in my thoughts and i know how difficult it can be <3
> 
> either way, i hope u enjoy the fic :)

 

“So I should be back around seven tomorrow,” Jules reminds you, shrugging his jacket on and straightening it out. “You sure you’re good to stay over?”

“Yeah, no problem, Uncle Jules.”

“C’mere, kiddo,” he grins, pulling you in for a big hug. He gives you a reassuring squeeze and pulls away, holding your shoulders. “Any problems, call me, okay?”

“Yeah. But I’ll be fine.”

“Alright. Give her another kiss from me when she’s awake, yeah?”

“I will! Now go, you’re gonna be late!” you urge, shoving him out of the door and giggling.

“One thing you gotta know about me by now, I’m  _never_ fuckin’ late. S’at dumbass Vincent that  _is.”_

“I get it,” you giggle. “See you tomorrow, Jules. Be safe.”

“I will, sweetie. See ya.” With that, you wave him out as he heads to his car and drives off, throwing you an extra wave as he does so. Despite calling him ‘Uncle Jules’, he’s not related to you by any means. Your father, Jimmie, had been friends with him since you were very young, so you had always known Jules as your uncle. He’s practically family at this point. Always cares for you, looks after you, makes sure you’re okay. Had always had your back (and always will).

Closing the door, you tiptoe to Jada’s room and peek in. There’s a hazy pink glow in the darkness coming from her nightlight (one you had helped pick for her birthday, actually) and she appears to be fast asleep. ‘ _Such a beautiful girl,’_ you think to yourself. Smiling, you make your way to the kitchen to raid the cupboards. Jules had stuck a post-it note labelled _‘SNACKIES FOR THE BABYSITTER’_ on two of them. 

You scoff to yourself. As if you didn’t already know exactly where the yummy nibbles are. Grabbing a bowl and emptying a hefty bag of salted pretzels into it, you head to the living room and plonk yourself on the couch. Jules had placed a few folded-up fuzzy blankets on the arm along with a couple of pillows, so you drape one over yourself.

Softly humming some Nirvana song you had heard that day to yourself, you ponder over what to watch on TV. Not expecting to find anything interesting, you mindlessly flick through the channels, eyes half-lidded in the darkness, the room barely lit from the box.

_“--wanna be like you, hop-dee-doo-bee-do-bow  
_

_I wanna walk like you,_

_Talk like you, too”_

You practically sit bolt upright at this. It’s the Jungle Book! Resting the TV remote on the stained coffee table, you snuggle down into the blankets, popping a pretzel in your mouth one after another. Maybe tonight won’t be as tedious as you had thought.

-

_Creak._

You shuffle in your sleep, the TV still idly playing in the background.

_Clomp. Clomp. Clomp._

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something snaps, and you jump the fuck out from the blankets into a stance that can only be described as that of a ninja warrior. Jules’ front door leads directly into the living room, and you give a threatening glare to the doofus standing at it.

He holds his hands up, looking at you dumbfounded. “Uh--”

“Shut the fuck up, who the hell are you and why are you in my uncle’s house?” you demand, fumbling around for the gun he hides for you. Your hands find it tucked inside one of the pillowcases, and you aim it at him. The guy watches you in confusion.

“I’m Vincent? I’m his-- I work with him? Who the hell are  _you?”_

Oh. So  _this_ is the dumbass Jules always mentions. “Oh,” you say, lowering the gun. “So  _you’re_ the dumbass Jules always mentions.”

“I’m the  _what?_ Look, kid, why are you here?” he sighs, gently kicking the front door shut.

“I’m babysitting, asshole. Why are  _you_ here? Sneaking into Jules’ apartment in the middle of the fucking night? Imagine if Jada would have heard you, she’d be fucking terrified, you should be ashamed of yourself!” you scold.

Christ, this is embarrassing. Being lectured at one in the morning by some young girl in skimpy Mickey Mouse pyjamas. How fucking humiliating. “You can’t talk to me that way, I’m-- you can’t talk to me like that!” he stutters.

You fold your arms, unintentionally pushing your breasts together. His eyes automatically drop to them-- you’re not wearing a bra, either. “Uh, hello? Eyes up here?” you scoff, snapping your fingers in front of your chest. He jumps at this and meets your eyes again.

“Sorry.”

“Whatever,” you say, pretending to not enjoy it. You had never seen a photo of Vince before, but god, he’s handsome. You’re lucky you’re wearing your ass-shorts, as your best friend liked to call them (they make your ass look incredible, these pyjamas really are a blessing). “We can talk like adults here. Why are you sneaking into my uncle’s apartment?”

“Why do I suddenly owe  _you_ an explanation?”

You raise your eyebrow at him, arms still folded. That’s enough to terrify him into telling you.

“Alright, alright! I lost my fuckin’ gun and I know where he keeps his spares,” he admits, his eyes flickering from your chest to your eyes.

You saunter over to him, a smirk playing on your lips-- older men are much more fun to tease. “You can borrow mine, if you like,” you coo, “daddy.”

“Wh-- look, honey, I ain’t into, uh, I ain’t ‘boutta-- you know!” he stammers, not knowing where to look. He has to look down at you to make eye contact, and he can’t really do that without looking down your shirt. It’s not making it any easier that your nipples are visible through the material.

“Ain’t about to  _what,_ Vincent?” you tease, running your tongue over your upper lip. You gaze up at him with doe eyes, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. Poor guy, he’s so flustered. Feeling a little guilty about it, you change your expression to a smug one. “I’m kidding, Christ. I’ll go get you one of his spares.”

Vince sighs and holds his coat so it covers his crotch as he trails after you to Jules’ room-- you’ve got him all worked up.

Jules keeps his guns in a safe that’s hidden at the bottom of his wardrobe, so you grab the key from its safe place and get on your hands and knees to unlock it. The shorts hug your ass perfectly, and Vince can hardly take it. You can feel his eyes roaming over you and, smirking to yourself, wiggle your butt a little. “Oh, god,” he groans, unable to keep it in. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, honey, it’s just that y--”

“Wanna fuck?”

_“What??”_

“Want? To? Fuck?”

He lets his coat drop to the floor. “Is that a question or an offer?” 

You cock your head to look up at him, chewing your lip. “Both,” you whisper, kneeling in front of him. He watches you like a hawk as you palm him through his pants, rubbing your lips and nose against his erection, almost gnawing at it.

“Mm, good girl, good kitten,” he urges, running his hands through your hair.

Giggling quietly, you paw at his hand and he helps you up. He rubs your waist with his hands, pushing your shirt up. The warmth from his palms is so comforting. You pull him in for an impatient kiss-- his breath tastes of cigarettes. It’s dirty, you like it. “Fuck me on the couch, I’m not doing it in my uncle’s bedroom.”

“Of course, babydoll,” he smirks, picking you up and carrying you to the living room. Carefully, he lowers you down so you’re on the couch, legs spread and ready to be fucked. “I’ll pull out, baby, don’t worry about that.”

“Mhm, yes daddy,” you whine, gushing at the sound of his belt buckle jingling as he drops his slacks and takes himself out. You hear him jerk himself a couple of times for the relief and, god, it’s such a fucking hot thought.

“S’all cause’a those beautiful tits’a yours,” he growls, holding the crotch of your shorts & panties to one side and rubbing the tip of his cock up & down your slit, teasing you. It’s practically glazed over with your wetness. “Don’t leave much to the imagination, do ya, baby girl?”

“Still reeled you in though, didn’t it?”

“That’s true,” Vincent admits, chuckling as he positions himself. Slowly, he pushes his cock into you, one hand on your ass and the other on your waist, pulling you towards him. A few moments later and he’s worked up a steady rhythm, grunting quietly with every thrust. Aside from the TV that’s quietly sounding, the only noise in the room is the sticky sound of slapping skin accompanied by hushed groans. “So good, baby, so fuckin’ good,” he growls under his breath, fucking into you in just the right spot.

Not a few minutes later and you’re panting a little, feeling your orgasm on its way. “Mmf, daddy, I’m gonna come,” you whine, doing your best to keep quiet.

“Tha’s a good girl, honey, go on, all for daddy.”

Hearing him refer to himself as daddy in that sexed up voice is enough for you. Your climax approaches and you feel your pussy tighten around his cock. You bite down on your knuckle to muffle your squeals, which sets him off-- he pulls out, jerking himself as he finishes over your ass. “Christ,” he pants, giving himself a stroke before pulling his pants back up. “That wasn’t bad.”

You readjust your panties & shorts so you’re wearing them like normal again, then turn to face him, raising an eyebrow with an amused smirk. “’Wasn’t bad’? Great fucking review, I’m flattered,” you say sarcastically, and he chuckles.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” you giggle, taking his hand to check his watch. “You should probably get going, you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Well wham-bam, thank you mam, huh.”

Vincent pulls you in for another kiss, the two of you smiling against each other’s lips. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, asshole.”

“I know, honey.” He rubs his hands over your waist fondly, sighing in satisfaction. “I gotta say, I didn’t think my night would pan out like this.”

“Huh, maybe you should take more of an interest in Julie’s life. Find out when he’s out for the night, when he’s having a babysitter,” you wink.

“Maybe I will.”

He gazes at you for a moment before buckling up his belt, looking around. “Where’s that gun again?”

“Oh, it’s just in his bedroom,” you reply, tottering off to fetch it for him. He waits in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the frame. You toss it to him and he throws a smile at you.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. And if Jules asks, I didn’t see you.”

“Honey, if Jules knew we had a fuckin’ interaction he’d lecture me with some dumbass Bible verse or some shit, never _mind_ if he knew what we just did,” he smirks. “I’d be in more trouble than you, believe me.”

You  _do_  believe him. Jules can be ruthless when he wants to be. Sighing, you see Vince to the door (him stealing a handful of pretzels on the way) and give him a kiss on the cheek goodbye. “I’ll see you when I see you,” you smirk, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“Definitely, baby. See ya.”

You watch him saunter off and, when he disappears from your sight, you trot back to the couch. Just as you begin to snuggle under the blankets again, the telephone starts ringing. You nearly jump out your skin-- it’s fucking half-past one in the morning! “Hello?” you frown.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s Dad. You okay?”

“Wh-- Dad, I’m fine! Why’d you ring me so late? I nearly shat myself, the phone’s so damn loud!”

“Watch your language,” he chuckles, making you smile. “I just wanted to check up on you, know you’re alright and stuff. And Jada, obviously.”

“Yeah, we’re fine. She’s fast asleep. How’s things at home?”

“It’s alright, kiddo. Listen, you should be asleep!” he scolds, mostly joking. Your dad had never really been very good at discipline. Then again, he never really had to be-- you had always been a good kid, for the most part. Cheeky, true, but well behaved.

You roll your eyes with a giggle. “Even if I  _was_ asleep, which I wasn’t, the phone would’a woke me up, dumbass!”

“I know, muffin. I just wanted to check you’re okay,” he laughs. “What’re you doin’ up this late anyways? Up to no good?”

“Of course. Nah, just watched Jungle Book on TV. Why the hell are  _you_ awake?”

“I was trying to stay up so I could call you at like, midnight, to check on you,” Jimmie explains, “but I sorta kinda fell asleep watchin’ TV.”

“Congrats. Dad, I’m gonna try and get some sleep.”

“Alright, sweetie, love you. Sleep well!”

“Night, love you too!”

With that, you hang up and drift off beneath those fuzzy blankets, clinging onto one of the pillows and dreaming of Vince.

-

“(Y/N), (Y/N)!” 

You try to open your eyes, squinting at the sunlight shining through the windows. “Huh?” As your vision comes together, you realise it’s Jada. She’s awake and ready for breakfast.

“I’m hungry,” she says, prodding your cheek.

“Hi hungry, I’m (Y/N),” you tease. “I’ll get you some breakfast, just give me a minute to wake up, sweetie.” Handing her the TV remote, you sit up on the couch rubbing your eyes. Remembering the night’s events, you let Jada choose what she’d like to watch.

She decides on Rugrats, something you secretly enjoy. You pat your lap and lift her onto it, giving her a kiss on the temple. The kid’s seven and she absolutely adores you. Really looks up to you, Jules says. “You want some Count Chocula?” you ask, smiling.

“Yes please!”

“Alright, honey,” you smile, lifting her off of your lap and onto the couch. Running a hand through your ruffled hair, you head to the kitchen to fetch her cereal and return in a couple of minutes. Just as you emerge from the kitchen, the front door swings open and in comes Jules.

“Daddy!” squeals Jada, running up to him.

“Pumpkin!” He scoops her up in his arms, pulling her into a big hug. “How’s my princess? Did you behave for (Y/N)?”

You set Jada’s breakfast down on the coffee table, watching the two with a grin. “Yes, she was good as gold, weren’t you honey?” you smile, and she nods proudly.

“Tha’s my girl.” Jules looks at his daughter like she’s the only thing that matters. It’s refreshing to see such wholesomeness for once. To say he’s a hitman, he’s a complete softie when it comes to being a dad. “Go on, go eat up your breakfast, baby.” With that, Jada skips off back to the couch.

“How was work?” you ask, leaning against the wall.

“It was alright but, oh, (Y/N), that dumbass Vincent--”

You feel your eyes go wide for a split second and quickly revert them back to normal. The last thing you want is to make him suspicious.

“--calls me at, like, midnight or so? Tells me he’s lost his gun? And I’m try’na carry out a damn hit. Honestly, I don’t know  _where_ that numbskull gets off.” He sighs, shaking his head with a little smile.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you agree, not even thinking twice about your response.

“You what?”

“Oh, nothing. I’m just tired, Dad called me at like, almost two in the morning.”

“Ah. I’ll run you home after Jada’s eaten, sweetie, a’ight?”

You smile, heading back to the couch to sit with your ‘cousin’. “Thanks, Uncle Jules.”


End file.
